Perfect for you is a quiet life in a quaint little house in a town where the average age never drops below 50. Your reason to wake up is the bustling of a full house with a litter of kids jumping over sofas and chokeslamming one another all day. The ideal job is something that settles you into a familiar but predictable hum. 6-figure salaries don’t bother you at all. You just want a partner who can provide the bare minimum and leave the worries of the world at the door once they come home.
The perfect day for you starts without having to worry about making school runs for the rest of your life. Sanity comes when you’re in that thick envelope of persistent honking and the bustling of big city life. Your evenings start with a massive pint of Aperol surrounded by your 5 cats instead of 6, because Judy the Ginger has wandered off yet again. The only true friends you have are rounded avatars on screens. Weekends can only start after you’ve checked on your green babies in the backyard garden.
Your chase for perfection fuels the exorcism of the mundane. Your smile widens as you cross more borders in your pursuit of new experiences. The life of your dreams is always in the place where you are not. Motion and flux fuel your enthusiasm to carry on. The ultimate joy comes from people not knowing who you are, and the people you know not knowing where you are. You curate your life like a river of experiences: you never step foot in the same waters more than once.
And my perfect life? Who cares about my perfect life?
